


Sinners

by FairyLights101



Series: All The Powers Of Heaven [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Priests, Angst, Casually ignoring when things are actually developed, Fluff, Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Violence, Trans Character, Trans Kozume Kenma, Transphobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-08
Updated: 2016-05-08
Packaged: 2018-06-06 21:01:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6769768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyLights101/pseuds/FairyLights101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To the world, his very existence is a sin. To the church, he is the epitome of blasphemy.</p>
<p>But if God truly hated him, wouldn't he be dead? Wouldn't Father Tetsuro hate him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sinners

Kenma frowned as he eyed his ribs in the dusty little mirror, nibbled on his lip as he gently prodded the bruises. His chest _ached_ , and the bruises were hideous, spanning across one side of his ribcage and dotting the other. They were fresh too, a deep purple and blue hue, vibrant against his pale skin. “Shit,” Kenma whispered as he traced his fingers along the tender flesh. It hurt to move his arms, even to _breathe_. “This is bad…”

He'd never bruised so bad and it had never hurt so much, but he'd never had to bind for so many hours on end either. _Maybe I shouldn't_ . But the edge of his breast made him swallow hard and he pressed his arm tighter to his chest, even when he hissed in pain. _I have to_. Because if not he knew that he'd be somewhere else completely all day, that he'd be so disconnected he could barely function. Kenma spared one last glance at the dirty mirror before he ducked his head, one hand firm over his chest, and snatched the roll of bandages up from his bottom dresser drawer.

They were wide - he'd been able those at least - but they were still bad. Too much compression, tightened with every breath, left him dizzy and weak. But he unraveled them every day and wrapped them around his chest. Kenma unwound the bandages and pressed them to his chest. One last deep breath - the last he'd get until it was so late that it was dark out and the few lights they had were extinguished - and he started to wrap the bandages around his chest. One loop, two.

A knock on the door made him freeze, and it swung open before he could choke words out, before he could cover himself. Father Tetsuro stepped in, his severe black cassock already draped over him, the rosary around his neck. “Kenma-”

His mouth was open, but no words came out. His gray eyes were fixed on Kenma’s back, on the mirror, on the bandages still in his hands and the breasts barely covered. “I…”

Kenma couldn't breathe, couldn't move. His knees shook, threatened to give out and send him crashing to the ground, and all he could do was stand there and clutch at his bandages. Kenma’s breaths stuttered and he dropped his head, unable to meet that stare any longer. Cold sweat coated his body, and he sagged against the dresser as his shoulders slumped.

His hands shook as he let his them fall, as his panicky gasps filled the room, deafeningly loud. “I-I-I’m sorry… I'll leave. J-just please… please don't h-hurt me.” He wasn't sure if his words were audible, or if it would even matter if they were. He could already feel the hands - ones that tore at his hair and ripped it out, held it up to be cut, hands that battered his face and made blood stream from his nose and lips, ones that threw him down and slammed into his chest, his stomach. The ones that had so cruelly spread his legs and forced him down.

Kenma’s legs buckled, but he didn't feel the way his knees smashed into the ground or how his hand clipped the dresser. Forehead to the ground, hands over his head, bandages loose around his chest, and Kenma whimpered as he tried to shrink in tighter, tried to disappear.

_Don't touch me don't touch me. Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, on Earth as it is in Heaven_ . He didn't realize the prayer had sprung to his lips until he heard it, the words distant and garbled, and his mouth snapped shut with a click. Saying that was even more dangerous. _Abomination. Desecration of God and His name._ Something clicked, locks scraped, and Kenma’s breathing ceased entirely. _Please God, don't let him touch me. I've done my best God, I've done my best_.

“Kenma.”

The soft word sliced through his daze and he flinched. He didn't raise his head, didn't dare to look up or uncurl. “Kenma, I'm not going to hurt you, promise. I would never lay my hand on you unless it was alright.”

A laugh burned it's way out of Kenma’s throat, weak and hysterical, and his fingers dug into his scalp. “Don't lie,” he gasped out, “Don't you fucking lie! I swear to God-” Teeth snapped shut and Kenma swallowed hard, tried hard to not peek out and sneak a glance at Father Tetsuro. “I'm sorry,” he breathed instead. “I'm sorry I'm an abomination, I'm sorry I desecrated this holy place, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry_ .” But he _wasn't_ . Anything but. And he wanted to sit up and scream that, but maybe, just _maybe_ , if he begged forgiveness the beating would be gentler.

“ _Kenma_.”

The young man froze - even his breathing stilled as terror churned his gut, turned it to ice. “Kenma.” Again, gentler this time, and something whispered across his forearm. He jerked back with a low moan before he could stop it. Kenma scrambled backwards, pushed himself up with trembling arms until he was crouched in the small gap between the dresser and bed. His arms curled in front of his chest, his nails bit crescents into his collarbones.

Golden eyes peeked through black hair, fixed on Father Tetsuro. Not that he could run anywhere. He'd trapped himself in a corner, but there was no changing that. He just swallowed hard, throat dry, and stared at Father Tetsuro. Silence hung between them, heavy - _endless_. Father Tetsuro just started at him, his face oddly expressionless, and Kenma shrank and tensed beneath his gaze. The silence was almost as bad as the fists and hands, and it made Kenma twitchy nervous. His lips parted, but he almost couldn't form words. When he managed to they were weak, choked, thick from his panicked tears. “W-what are you waiting for?”

“Kenma,” Father Tetsuro whispered as he slowly raised a hand, palm pointed to the sky, “I'm not going to hurt you. That goes against everything I ever learned about God and His words. Besides…” Father Tetsuro shrugged, and his lips quirked up into a tiny smile. “God taught me to love everyone, and I can't think of being different as being wrong. As long as you haven't killed anyone you're perfect to me, and to God. You haven't killed anyone, right?” Kenma just stared at Father Tetsuro, even when the priest’s smile stretched into a grin. His hand didn't recede - it came closer even.

“Kenma, I have friend with the same feelings as you. He has something much safer than bandages.” That came with a pointed look to the bruises that peeked out from beneath his arms, and Kenma shrank back reflexively. But Father Tetsuro didn't look hurt or disgusted, or even fascinated in a twisted away - no, the smile was the same genuine one he'd flashed Kenma’s way for the last four months. And it made something inside him crack. Then the words sank in and everything splintered apart. A sob tore out of Kenma’s chest and he buried his face into his hands as tears streamed out, thick and unstoppable.

His head tipped back, hit the wall with a thump, and his entire body hitched with a quiet gasped sob, his mouth wide open. His fingers spasmed in his hair and he trembled as he cried. Father Tetsuro was blurred through his tears, but his expression had morphed into shock, concern, and his hand had fallen. “Kenma?”

The young man shook his head - he couldn't find words, couldn't find sense between the sobs, the ache of pure _relief_ that throbbed through his veins. He scrubbed at his face but that didn't stop the tears, and he hiccupped quietly as he rocked forwards off the wall. For the longest time the only sounds that filled the room were hiccups, sobs, and sniffs as the tide of tears slowed, faded, and Kenma wiped at his face with a quiet sniff. Father Tetsuro stared at him, brows drawn together and lips parted, but the second Kenma managed to meet his gaze his mouth snapped shut.

“Kenma? Are you okay?”

“I… Were you being honest?”

Father Tetsuro smiled, and that stole Kenma’s breath because he _knew_. Father Tetsuro couldn't lie. “I was.”

“How can I believe you?”

Father Tetsuro raised his hand, face solemn, and he ducked his head. His other hand curled around the rosary. He didn't balk at Kenma’s narrowed eyes or the suspicious curl if his lips. “I swear upon our almighty God in Heaven that you can trust me.”

Kenma nodded because he couldn't find his voice - all he could do was bite back fresh tears as Father Tetsuro smiled at him, warm welcoming, _genuine_. “Thank you,” he breathed.

Father Tetsuro’s smile broadened as he extended his hand once more. “Kenma… is that your preferred name?”

“Yes.”

“And what pronouns do you use?”

“... He/him.”

“Alright. Kenma… please do me a favor. Don't wear those bandages today. It's not Sunday or Wednesday, so we're probably not going to get many visitors. If you want I can tell the others that you're sick. I just want you to stay safe until I can take you to Yuu.”

Kenma’s hands tightened over his chest as panic flared through him. _Go without my bandages? I can't do that_ . “I… can't…” He wanted to be connected, didn't want to be reminded with nearly every step or move that his body was wildly different from how he wanted it to be. And, while the acolyte cassocks might have been fairly loose and shapeless, they weren't nearly loose enough to hide his breasts, even if they were small. Only Shoyo knew, but they had been friends for _years_. Shoyo wouldn't give a damn if he saw, but the other priests - Kenma shuddered to think of their possible reactions. “Father Tetsuro-”

“Just Tetsuro, Kenma.”

“Fa- Tetsuro… I… I can't. Only Shoyo knows a-and-”

A touch on his foot made him flinch and he jerked the limb back, eyes wide, uncertain. Father Tetsuro’s hand instantly returned to his side with an apologetic smile. “I'm sorry. But Kenma, don't worry. Stay in here today. I'll tell the others you're ill. I know you want to bind, but it's not safe with those, and it already looks bad. But…” His eyes were dark, serious, and Kenma’s breath caught as he stared. “Kenma, the others will be okay with you. Fuck, we're all gay here.”

Slender brows arched and Kenma cocked his head to the side. “What?”

Father Tetsuro smiled again and a laugh bubbled up as he rocked back and shifted. “Father Tooru is gay - he and Hajime have… a complicated relationship. Though I think that's changed. And why do you think Koushi comes around so often? Particularly when Father Daichi is with us?” Father Tetsuro flashed him a crooked grin. “We're all friends with Asahi and Yuu. We'll accept you, Kenma. But I'll only tell them if you want.”

The words took a moment to sink in, but when they did Kenma shook his head vigorously, palms sweaty. “N-no… I…” He couldn't find the words, but Father Tetsuro seemed to understand because his smile was warm, easy.

“Stay in here today, alright? I'll pay Yuu a visit later and see when he can see you, alright?” A nod, sharp and quick. “Please don't bind, alright? Let your ribs heal.”

“O… okay.”

Father Tetsuro reached out, but he caught himself before he could touch Kenma, and he hesitated for a moment before he pulled his arm back. He rose after a moment with a small smile. “Go back to bed, Kenma.”

Only when Father Tetsuro had slipped back out, the door shut firmly behind him, did Kenma scramble up. He pressed his body to the door and locked it, cursing himself all the while. _How could I forget?_ And yet - and yet the priest's words had rattled him. He didn't know what to believe - the warm genuine smiles and words and the vow to God or the painful memories with teeth buried deep into his skin. “I don't know,” he whispered to himself, but when he peeled away from the door he didn't lunge for his suitcase.

He let the bandages fall away finally as he stooped, picked up his night shirt, and tugged it back on. Even though it was loose, shapeless, he still bit his lip as he crawled back beneath the covers he'd vacated barely half an hour before. His fingers swept along his ribs and he winced a little at the touch. He could only hope he hadn’t cracked a rib - he was fairly certain he hadn’t though. But, despite the pain and the tightness, his fingers still twitched towards the floor. His legs itched to move, to flee.

_I can’t believe I forgot to lock the door._ Or maybe it had been locked. Maybe Father Tetsuro had used his master key. He couldn’t be sure - all that he was certain of was that he was _terrified_ , even if that honest smile told him to have faith. Kenma reached out with a wince and, after a moment of fumbling, he caught his rosary, tugged it beneath his covers. He cradled it in his hands, pressed his lips to the polished beads with a shaky sigh. _God, let this be real. Let me be safe. Please, please, please, let this not go to Hell_.

But his hands still trembled, enough that Kenma wanted to cry again as he pulled the covers over his head and tried to fall asleep.

* * *

 

Father Tetsuro knocked on his door at dawn, and Kenma hesitantly opened the door, a blanket draped around his body. It was dark in the hall, but candlelight played across Father Tetsuro’s face, softened it. Though it couldn’t do anything to make his smile anything other than soft and warm and genuine. “I talked with Yuu yesterday, and he’s okay to see you today. I already told Father Daichi and Father Tooru that I was taking you out to the market. I know they’d accept you, but it’s your choice on whether or not to tell them.”

“Okay,” Kenma whispered, and he slowly shut the door, locked it, pressed his back to it. He’d almost managed to forget the panic of the day before, but it crept back in as he pressed against the door for a long moment, uncertain. _I don’t know if he’s telling the truth… but I have to try_.

Kenma dropped the blanket, set it back on the bed. It hurt to move - he was stiff and sore, so much that he could barely raise his arms, but he sank down, picked up his bandages. He hissed and winced as he slowly raised his arms, eyes pointedly turned away from the mirror, from the dark bruises that had only spread and darkened, and he wrapped it around his chest with one last deep breath. He buttoned up his cassock, draped his rosary around his neck, and thumbed the beads. _God, protect me_.

When he opened the door again Father Tetsuro grinned at him, though it faded a little when his eyes fell to his chest. Despite that he didn’t say anything, just flashed Kenma a gentle smile and gestured. The air was cool when they spilled out of the dark church, and Kenma took as deep of a breath as he could, a tiny smile flickering on his face. It was good to be out of the church, no matter how much he loved it. The fresh air was a nice change, as was light that wasn’t filtered through stained glass. “Kenma.” The young man started at the voice, and Father Tetsuro flashed an apologetic smile at him before he continued on with that easy smile of his. “You should go on walks more often. I know you enjoy it, and I feel bad for keeping you and Shoyo shut in all the time.”

“It’s okay,” Kenma whispered. It was - outside was dangerous, particularly on his own, and he and Shoyo rarely had long stretches of free time that coincided. He didn’t want to risk it. Didn’t want to have hands smashing into his face and chest or pulling at his hair or doing God knew what else. Even if that wasn’t the case, it only made binding worse. He couldn’t breathe deep, and the bandages would only tighten, and they’d have to be readjusted earlier and earlier, and the pain would only grow. _It’s better if I don’t_.

Father Tetsuro hummed quietly, but he didn’t fill the walk with conversation. He just led Kenma through the streets, his steps sure and swift. Kenma appreciated the silence, he really did - but it only made the knot apprehension in his belly grow heavy and cold. A thousand what-ifs crept through his head, demanding to be heard. _What if it’s a lie_ . Past the empty street vendor stalls. _Maybe he’s taking me to get beaten_ . An icy hand clutched his chest. The town shifted, changed to something more residential. _They’ll hurt me_.

The houses were small, quaint, but they had sizeable lawns and small vegetable patches or children’s toys littering the ground. He was too dizzy to realize where they were until Father Tetsuro slowed and stepped through a gate, and Kenma’s steps stuttered to a stop as he stared at the house. It was a little thing, just one story with a soft yellow coat of paint on it. It looked nothing like a place where people would shove him to the ground and try to shove his nose through his skull or crush his ribs or rip his hair out or jerk his pants off and force him down.

Kenma’s inhale was a gasp, and his legs wobbled as he froze on the sidewalk. His mouth moved, his thoughts were a mess. They slammed through his mind, impossibly fast, and he couldn’t _think_ . His breath hitched as his hands came to his chest, clutched at his cassock and rosary. It all slammed into him, abrupt and fast, and Kenma could barely breathe as he stared, sightless. _I don’t want them to touch me. Not again. I’d rather them kill me. I’d rather die._ Kenma gasped, clawed at his neck.

“Kenma?” Father Tetsuro stepped closer, brows drawn. “Kenma, I promise, you’re safe here. Kenma-”

“ _Shut up_ ,” he gasped. _I want to live. They can’t touch me, they_ can’t _. I’d rather die._ Because all he could feel were those _hands._ Ones that left him filthy, vile, _ruined._

Kenma choked, hiccupped as a sob ripped through his chest. His legs buckled and he crashed to the ground with a gasp - but strong arms caught him, pulled him close. He could barely feel the touch, could only gasp and choke on his own breaths. They lied, they _always_ lied. _I shouldn’t have come. Stupid, stupid, stupid_.

His feet knocked against something, the light cut away. A door clicked and Kenma’s eyes flew wide.The acolyte threw his arm out with a shrill, panicked noise and instantly the arms recoiled. His knees smashed to the ground and instantly he shrank in on himself. Hands pressed to his chest, eyes clenched tight. He thumbed the rosary, gasped and fought to bite back tears that poured out freely. “Don’t hurt me, don’t hurt me,” he gasped as he shuddered, quaked. “ _God, don’t let them hurt me_ .” _Keep their hands away. God, I’ve been good. I’ve been loyal. Please, please God, don’t let them touch me_.

He could feel them, the heavy hands that smashed into his jaw, dealt blows to his chest and stomach, grabbed his pants and jerked them down, forced him to the ground. Touches from memories that dug into him with serrated teeth, demanding to be felt. And he couldn’t do anything _but_ feel them as they clawed their way through his mind.

Prayers fell from his lips, desperate, frantic, garbled. He didn’t care if it made things worse - he had to pray, had to hope for some semblance of protection. _Please_ . A rough sob ripped through his chest as he rocked back, tried to make himself smaller. _It’s hurts_. And then he realized that no one had touched him. That no hands except for those phantom ones were on him, and he shuddered once more before he fell still with a weak hiccup. It took one second, two, before he could raise his head and look, the world blurry from tears.

Three men stood a few feet away, their eyes firmly fixed on him. Father Tetsuro was the closest, frozen by uncertainty and worry, that familiar bright smile nowhere to be seen. The man beside him was _huge_ , and that nearly tipped Kenma back into a chaos of panic until he realized that the man’s huge hands were empty, that his face lacked any hatred or disgust. The man beside him was positively tiny, and his hair had been gelled up into wild spikes. His hands were empty too. _All of them_ were empty-handed. And they all had the same expression - concern, worry, understanding. Nothing but.

Kenma sank back onto his rear with a sniff, eyes wide and cheeks wet. He dragged the sleeve of his cassock across his face as his chest hitched, and Father Tetsuro took a step forwards, sank down in front of him. “Kenma,” he whispered, “We’re not going to hurt you, promise. Please believe me. Asahi and Yuu just want to help. Will you let them?”

Kenma swallowed hard, his tongue thick in his mouth, his throat tight. “F-Father… _it hurts_ .” _It hurts so much_.

“I know Kenma, I know. So please, let us help. We’re here for you.”

The young man’s breath caught, but he nodded and slowly stretched his hand out, took Father Tetsuro’s outstretched one. The priest eased him up off the ground with a soft smile, but Kenma couldn’t make it upright. The bandages had tightened, and they bit into his bruises, made him bite his lip and whimper as he doubled over. Instantly the small man moved in the way, bumped Father Tetsuro out of the way so he could take Kenma’s hand instead. “Come on,” he chirped, and Kenma started a little. His voice was higher than he’d expected, and then it sank in abruptly. _This must be Yuu_. “We’re going to get those bandages off alright? It’ll stop hurting soon. Everyone can get introduced over breakfast.”

He gently tugged Kenma deeper into the house, then pushed him into a room. A bedroom. The small man nudged Kenma into the center of the room and flashed a grin at him before he locked the door and moved to the dresser. “Do you want to stay in your cassock or do you want a shirt and some pants? I’m Yuu Nishinoya by the way!”

“Ah… my cassock is alright. And… I’m Kenma Kozume.” Yuu’s amber eyes sparkled with amusement and he nodded. But, as the silence stretched on, his gaze didn’t flick away, even when Kenma flinched beneath his stare and shrank away. “Um…”

He knew Yuu wanted him to strip - that much was obvious, but he choked on the thought. Yuu smiled apologetically with a shrug. “Sorry, but I want to take a look at your ribs. I was trained as a nurse before Asahi and I left. I know what you’re going through, and I don’t want you to hurt more than you have to.”

“... Okay.” Kenma hesitated for a few seconds before he turned his back on Yuu and start to undo his cassock. The buttons were easy, and he managed to shrug the white top piece off without struggle, and it was the same with the black cassock, but when he reached his undershirt he was ready to cry. The pain was unbearable - he couldn’t even raise his arm above his bottom rib before he gave up, and he dropped the shirt. One shuddering breath, two, and then he turned, tears burning in his eyes. “I…”

Yuu’s eyes were dark with worry as he stepped forward, but his hands hesitated a few centimeters from Kenma’s shirt. “Is this alright?”

“Y-yeah.” _No_ . But he bit his lip and sucked down the deepest breath he could, eyes clenched tightly shut, as Yuu reached for his shirt and gently tugged it off, one sleeve down one arm, them the other, then he pulled it up over Kenma’s  head. Every time his fingers brushed Kenma’s skin he flinched, but he thumped his rosary and fought off the panic with desperate prayers. He knew Yuu could see the scars, that he was about to see all he’d done wrong. All that simply was wrong because it _existed_. And he knew that he couldn’t bear the touches, not with those memories, sharp in his mind.

“I’m so sorry,” Yuu whispered as he dropped the shirt to the ground and moved onto the bandages.

The second they loosened Kenma gasped, and Yuu’s brows drew together, but he didn’t say anything, not until they fell away from his ribs, left him exposed except for the hands he pressed to his chest, desperate for some sort of cover. He barely heard the sharp inhale, but he definitely felt the soft touch that skimmed across his ribs. The acolyte couldn’t help but recoil away from the touch, and Yuu dropped his hand like he’d burned his fingers. “I’m sorry… But God, _Kenma_ …”

“I…” But he couldn’t speak, couldn’t defend himself. What could he say about the deep bruises that spanned his ribs, mottled him like he was diseased?

“Kenma, you can’t keep doing this.”

“I have to,” he whispered. He couldn’t meet Yuu’s eyes, couldn’t bear the shame.

“I’ll make sure you don’t.” _That_ made him look up, startled, and Yuu flashed him a small smile. “I have some things. Now let me get you a shirt.” Thankfully the one Noya fetched was a buttondown because Kenma was positive he couldn’t raise his hands again, and then Noya pressed a pair of jeans into his hands. Those took him a few minutes to wrestle on, but he at least managed to do that. Yuu held out his hand and Kenma hesitantly took it.

The small man led him out of the bedroom, through the house, to the kitchen. Father Tetsuro and the tall man - Asahi presumably - were seated at the table, simple mugs in their hands and the scent of coffee and food in the air. Yuu nudged him into a seat, loaded up two plates, and set one in front of him, then a cup of coffee as well. Three pairs of eyes settled on Kenma for a painfully long moment before they fell away one by one until only Father Tetsuro’s eyes remained. “Kenma?”

He ducked his head, curled his hand around his cup of coffee. “I’m sorry for earlier… I- yeah.”

“It’s okay,” he murmured, voice smooth, and Yuu nodded. “We understand. Being like this… it’s hard.”

“Definitely,” the tall man added, and then he flashed a small smile at Kenma. “I’m Asahi Azumane, Yuu’s partner.”

“Kenma Kozume.”

“Nice to meet you, Kenma.”

He dipped his head, words thick, and shrank back into his chair. They took that as their cue to stop staring at him and instead eyed each other. Kenma and Yuu ate quickly, quietly, and Kenma tried his best to not wince as he moved. He couldn’t help it sometimes though, and he knew Father Tetsuro saw, but he couldn’t do much about it. Just ate in silence and listened as they spoke about trivial things. Weather. News. Politics.

Asahi took their plates and cups before he could move to do so himself, and when he returned _something_ changed. The air grew heavier, more stilted. And then Father Tetsuro cleared his throat. “Yuu, how bad?”

“He can barely raise his arms.” Across from him Asahi winced and pressed a hand to his mouth. He and Yuu glanced at each other, and Yuu nodded. The exchange left Kenma baffled, and he couldn’t even begin to figure what that look might have meant.

Amber eyes settled on him, then brown and gray as well, and their combined stares made Kenma shrink as his stomach twisted. He couldn’t even hide behind his hair - it was still short, wasn’t remotely long enough to hide him from their gaze. He bit his tongue instead and shrank back as much as he could. “Kenma…” Yuu said after a moment, “Your ribs are severely bruised. You’ve probably cracked one at the least, though I can’t be certain. People… have done a lot to you, haven’t they?”

Kenma swallowed hard, pressed one hand to his mouth and clasped his rosary tight with the other. He nodded, but he couldn’t say anything. Not with his tongue so thick and his chest so tight. Yuu nodded slowly, and for a moment Kenma could have sworn that rage flashed across their faces - not directed at him, but at _those_ people. It was strange to see such a foreign emotion on Father Tetsuro’s face - the only expressions he’d seen were friendly ones after jokes and during conversations and the more serious ones, like during Mass and confessions and prayers. But Father Tetsuro didn’t say anything, just leaned close and listened.

“Kenma.” Asahi this time, his voice deep and soft. “Do you think you could let us take some measurements? We have to make sure the binder fits.”

“Binder?”

“It’s… like a brassiere, but different. Less feminine, more compression.”

“Ah.” He knew nuns wore linen cloths, and that those stupid brassieres were a pain, but they were effective. He’d given them up because they were too frilly, didn’t quite do enough.

Asahi flashed him a smile, small and warm, and tapped the table. “We’ll have to measure to get the best fit, but you look close to Yuu’s size, and he has a few spare ones. Not close enough to be a long-term fix - they’ll probably be a little tight.”

“Kinda,” Yuu laughed, “He’s a lot smaller than me, but his chest is wider.” The words made Kenma flush, and he scrubbed his face with his hands for a few seconds. When he peeked through his fingers the partners grinned at him, and Tetsuro offered a thin-lipped smile. “So, can we?”

“Ah… yeah.”

Yuu beamed at him and rose. “Follow me then. I’ll keep it quick, okay? Then you can take a nap - I know you’re tired, and we have some catching up to do with Tetsuro.”

The acolyte just nodded and rose at Yuu’s gesture, and he followed him back to the bedroom. Taking off the button down was the easy part. He measurements and touches were anything but. He had to bite his tongue and thumb his rosary as Yuu took his measuring tape and stretched it from shoulder to hip, shoulder to shoulder, all the way around his hips, then his chest, all over his breasts. He wanted to retch, to jerk away, but he chanted a mixture of prayers to himself, and a slew of other things.

_Yuu’s safe. He’s like me. He’s not going to hurt me_.

But it was still the best moment when Yuu allowed him to tug the shirt back on and shooed Kenma out into the living room right ahead of him. Asahi pressed a blanket into his hands and Father Tetsuro flashed him a smile as he was prodded over to the unoccupied couch. He didn’t resist, just laid down, curled up beneath the blanket, and peeked out from behind the edges at the three. They smiled at him, warm, and Kenma blinked slowly until they slipped back into the kitchen, and then his eyes closed. It was easy to fall asleep, to sink into the wave of exhaustion left behind by the earlier tears and panic. Still, he drifted in and out, half conscious for the most part. He caught snippets of their conversation, but not enough to keep him conscious.

“... dangerous for him to bind that much…”

“... lungs. He’s lucky as hell.”

“I know, I tried…”

“... huge help.”

“... a month maybe.”

“We see too many like him… it’s sad.”

“... beaten, raped…”

“Why’s he so special, Tetsuro?”

“Because…”

Tetsuro roused him near noon, and Kenma staggered back into the kitchen where Asahi sat, Noya draped across his back. They at least waited until he was awake enough before they started to speak, something that Kenma was thankful for. “I’m going to lend you one of mine until I can get yours made. It’s going to take a few weeks because I have to get the materials, but it should be done by the end of the both. Kenma…”

“Yes?”

Asahi broke in, and Yuu pressed their cheeks together, their faces painfully serious. “Please don’t use bandages ever again, no matter what. Those are too dangerous. We don’t even want you to wear the binder for a week, not until your ribs heal. Can you do that?”

Kenma swallowed hard, but after a glance at Father Tetsuro he nodded weakly, and the three men smiled at him. “Thank you,” Yuu breathed. Kenma didn’t respond, couldn’t. He didn’t have the words, the strength. “Tetsuro knows how to put it on, so he’ll show you and help you out so long as that’s alright with you.”

“Okay.”

Yuu flashed a smile at him, and then he raised his arm and leaned over, a black cloth in his hand, thick in some parts. Kenma’s hands trembled as he took it, curled it close to his chest, and he sucked down a deep breath before he glanced up at them with teary eyes. “Thank you… thank you both so much.” They just beamed at him, smiles radiant, and Kenma’s chest twisted as he sank back and thumbed the fabric while happiness bubbled away in his chest.

* * *

 

His tongue was heavy, weighed down by something he couldn’t quite comprehend. Ears filled with cotton. Eyes glossed over like frosted glass. Everything felt foreign beneath his fingers, and Kenma - well, he wasn’t entirely sure what he felt, what he was doing. He just _was_. The hands in front of him that slowly pushed musty tomes back into place didn’t feel like his, nor did the leaden legs that propelled a foreign body through the aisles of bookshelves. Everything was gauzy, vague, except for the stabbing pain in his chest. Not from the bandages - that was a dull ache, barely present in the back of his mind. The pain was from the longing, the anxiety, the undiluted fear. Kenma shivered, but those hands didn’t waver. Just continued to slowly pick up the books and and find their places, one by one.

Someone’s voice filtered through the fog, but it was distant, garbled. He couldn’t understand it, couldn’t even understand himself. He just moved through the fog with two sets of thoughts, one his own, one belonging to someone he wasn’t quite sure was real.

Three days.

He’s managed three days before he’d broken down. He hadn’t even wanted to get out of bed God knew how long ago - the weight in his gut should have been the first clue, the fact that he’d actually thrown up should have been his second. But Kenma had ignored it, and now he felt like he was a thousand kilometers away from normalcy. From being in the church’s library, shelving books with Shoyo. _I’m shelving with Shoyo, right?_ But he couldn’t turn that head, move those eyes. Just stared forward, blank, as a voice chattered through the murk. It took a few seconds, but the words slowly connected with Kenma, started to make sense, sank into place.

“It’s so cool how many books they’ve got! I’d read them, but they’re so _boring_ . I’d rather go outside and garden or something! Maybe Father Daichi will let me work with him in the spring! Wah, that’d be so _fantastic_! Don’t you think so, Kenma?” The throat - was it his? He wasn’t entirely sure - bodded, but the tongue didn’t twitch, the lips didn’t move. Silence. Heavy thuds. Scrapes. Hand on his wrist. “Kenma?”

He blinked, dazed, and slowly, painstakingly turned to Shoyo. His mouth felt more like his own, so did his body, but at the same time it didn’t feel right, and he swayed a little. “I…”

Shoyo’s face darkened and his hand tightened around Kenma’s wrist. “Come on. We’re done here.”

Helpless, Kenma let Shoyo tug him along, his steps stumbling, more uncoordinated than usual. Numb and useless. Not his own. They paused at one room - who’s was it? Kenma couldn’t remember, didn’t care to. “Father Tooru, Kenma isn’t feeling well, so I’m taking him to his room.”

“Alright. Do you want me to come check on him once he’s settled?”

“No! I mean… no, I can handle it.”

“Alright... “ Off again, that tug incessant.

_I’m sorry. I’msorry. Sosorry._ Jumbled, messy. He staggered behind Shoyo, let his friend drag him along through the halls, into a room. _Mine_. Bandages on the dresser. Hands on his cassock. He couldn't even flinch away, just let Shoyo tug off his clothes until he was bare before his friend. Shoyo sucked down a harsh breath as he reached towards Kenma, towards his ribs.

“Jesus Christ, _Kenma_ …”

His mouth was full of cotton, his tongue was made of lead, and it didn't feel like his own as it shaped words, slowly choked them out through an uncooperative throat. “I'm… sorry.”

Shoyo shook his head, moved out of sight. Something wrapped around Kenma - a blanket. And then Shoyo’s arms wrapped around him. He felt _real_ \- warm, soft. Kenma sagged into him with a shuddering breath, buried his nose into Shoyo’s vibrant hair. After a few moments Shoyo gently tugged on him and Kenma’s heavy body immediately moved, sank onto the bed at Shoyo’s urging. His back to the door, Shoyo’s to the wall. His head nestled beneath Shoyo’s chin, hands curled into loose fists against the other acolyte’s cassock. Fingers dragged through his hair with long, slow strokes. And, as they laid there, Kenma slowly felt himself sink back into his body until he fit it again, no longer too big for it, no longer misshapen. A shuddering breath followed, and Shoyo’s hands tightened in his hair. “It's okay, Kenma. It's okay. I'm right here.”

The acolyte nodded weakly, pressed closer, dug his fingers in, desperate to ground himself even further. His eyes burned, and he sniffed quietly as Shoyo pressed their bodies closer - closer than they'd been in a while. They hadn't lain together in months - certainly not since before they'd joined their current church. Not in the one before either. Perhaps before that, when he'd been little more than a shell and Shoyo had been terrified that he'd give up and die. He burrowed into Shoyo’s chest with a quiet noise. “Shoyo… I'm sorry.”

“It's alright, Kenma. I know it's hard. But… I'm glad you aren't using those bandages. It looked so bad...”

_I'm not_. It was easier to breathe, it didn't hurt, but he felt even more disgusting than usual, and it left him weak. He turned his face up, whispered into Shoyo’s neck. “I… Father Tetsuro knows.” His fingers froze in Kenma’s hair, but when he tensed to jerk upright Kenma pressed soothing fingers to Shoyo’s arm. “He knows and he doesn't care. He took me to see these men, Asahi and Yuu. Yuu… he's like me. He gave me a thing he calls a binder. Apparently it's safer than bandages. He leant me one of his to use until he can make mine… but I have to wait until the bruising goes away.”

Shoyo pulled back slightly, just enough that they could see each other. His hands were warm when they cupped Kenma’s cheeks. “Kenma…” His amber eyes glittered with joy, raw and bright, and the warmth in his gaze made Kenma burn. “I'm so happy for you.”

Kenma flashed his friend a tiny smile that Shoyo returner with a radiant grin. He leaned in and pressed a kiss to Kenma’s forehead before they settled back into the old position. It wasn't long before Kenma’s eyes fluttered, before he sank into sleep with tears in his eyes and his hands curled tight in Shoyo’s cassock.

* * *

 

The next day was a little easier, and the one after that was only marked with a panic attack that woke him, though that had been conjured by vicious nightmares. Still, he was nervous as he sat beside Father Tetsuro, pens in their hands. Stacks of letters sat beside them, each carefully written, sealed, and stamped with the church’s insignia. Pleas for donations so they could switch to electricity, so the could repair some of the more worn down parts of the church.

They'd been there since early in the morning, working in silence. Kenma knew that it was just an excuse so that he wouldn't have to do any serious work and risk hurting himself. So that he didn't run the risk of exposing himself to the morning service and the church goers whose eyes were sharp and critical. Instead of bandages he had a cloth, much like the nuns, though it wasn't nearly as tight or effective, no matter how small Yuu said he was.

It made him uncomfortable, more so since he couldn't quite understand Father Tetsuro, but he didn't run away. Just scratched letters into the paper, his letters sharp and precise. That was something Father Tetsuro had praised him for when he'd first joined, and the memories warmed Kenma’s gut for a few moments before he squashed the feelings and checked the address book. He carefully printed the address and sealed the letter away when the ink had dried.

He carefully dribbled wax onto it, then took the little stamp and pressed it in until the three crowns and cross keys were left in the blood red wax. He set it aside to join his steadily growing pile, which was a little larger than Father Tetsuro’s - the priest, surprisingly, made more mistakes. Sometimes his letters were backwards or completely missing, and he'd hiss beneath his breath, rub his eyes, crumple the paper, and start over. Kenma didn't ask why despite the biting curiosity. He just bowed his head and fixed his eyes on the documents before him.

The light that poured through the window slowly strengthened. The sound of voices raised high in song and the familiar tone of the organ filled the halls, sent a tremor through Kenma’s bones. _I want to be out there_. He didn't like the thought of people, but he wanted to be within those holy halls, wanted to feel the soft leather of their Bibles beneath his fingers, wanted to raise his voice in a quiet song of his own. “Kenma.”

_Crap_. He'd probably shifted too much, and though he was nervous, he glanced up at Father Tetsuro. “Yes, Father.”

Amusement flashed across the older man's face as he shook his head and flexed an ink-stained hand. “I told you to call me Tetsuro when we're alone. There's no need to be stiff and formal. I could care less honestly. But, as I was going to say - you want to be out there?” He nodded, and _Tetsuro_ smiled, wide and easy. “We can go to the Wednesday service, alright? So long as your bruising has gone down. It looked much better today.”

Tetsuro was adamant on checking to ensure that he wasn't binding, and on checking his ribs in case Kenma needed Yuu’s care. So far neither had been an issue, and Tetsuro was obviously pleased. Kenma was more disgruntled, but he couldn't deny that it was good. He could breathe, and the agony in his chest had faded away to a dull throb that he barely noticed. The bruises had started to yellow at the edges, and that filled him with excitement. The sooner they went away the sooner he could try on Yuu’s binder. _Thank you, God_.

“I hope it does,” he whispered, and Tetsuro smiled at him, warm.

“Me too. I want you to be happy.”

Kenma’s fingers twitched and he peeked back up at the priest, uncertain. “... Why?” By all rights, Tetsuro should have banished him from the church. Should have gotten a mob together to beat and lynch him. And yet a priest with a wild, untamable bedhead and a cocky grin treated him with nothing but kindness. Gave him hope he hadn't felt outside of Shoyo. Wanted happiness for _him_. And it baffled Kenma, gnawed at him.

Tetsuro cocked his head as his smile widened - cheery, not sinister. Friendly, not weighted. “Because you're one of us, Kenma. You're part of our family now, and that's what matters. Besides, it's not my place to decide what is right and wrong. If homosexuality and being a man or woman on the inside but not the outside was a sin then God would have corrected that long ago, just like he did with the Flood. But he hasn't, so I can only assume that you're in the right, just like Yuu, the other fathers, and myself.”

“You?”

Tetsuro barked out a laugh and nodded. “Since I was kid! My parents kicked me out, but I found this church, and Tooru and Daichi. Now we're trying to teach acceptance. We don't want people like us to suffer.” His eyes darkened, and for a split second Kenma was scared. Not for himself, but for _Tetsuro_ . _He's been there too_. “Some of us have suffered too much.” Kenma nodded, wordlessly, and the fragile, dark look lingered for a second or two more before it snapped away, a smile instantly in its place. “Do you want to get some food? I'm pretty damn hungry.”

“Ah, sure.”

Tetsuro grinned and gleefully abandoned his pen as he leapt off the chair. He waited until Kenma stood as well before he started to walk and talk, his voice strangely loud in the quiet - the service must have finished. “I _hate_ writing those things! It makes my hand hurt like Hell, and I have to write slow so I don't mess up. You saw, right? I've got this thing that makes it hard to read and write unless I take my time. That's why Tooru and Daichi usually do services - I'm good at memorizing it, but it's a pain to read, and if I forget I can't go and try to read something unless I want to take _forever_.”

“It's understandable… but I like your services.” Tetsuro’s services were vibrant and lively - they didn't feel the same as Father Daichi's or Father Tooru’s. His had energy, and the people were enraptured by that. He made it so that there was never a dull moment, even when he pulled quotes from the Bible seemingly out of nowhere and spun a lesson out of those gossamer threads.

“Thanks, Kenma,” Tetsuro chuckled, and he raised his hand like he was going to touch his shoulder, but his hand froze, even though Kenma didn't flinch or move. They stared at each other as their steps slowed, then stopped, and Tetsuro flashed him a sheepish smile. “Sorry… I'm used to touching people, and I know you aren't fond of that.”

“Yeah…”

Their steps started up again, but the air was a little more awkward between them, more uncertain. The question was inevitable, unavoidable, and Kenma sucked down deep breaths awkward quietly as he could. “Kenma… can I ask? Only if that's alright. I don't know you well, but… you can talk to me. I'll do my best to help.”

Kenma swallowed hard as they pushed into the kitchen. The other priests and Shoyo weren't in there, just the little calico cat that hung around and begged for scraps. It was quiet, safe. Still, he stumbled over the words, strange on his tongue, even though his eyes were fixed on the floor. He'd seen the scars, and it was hard to miss the way he shied away from all contact. “Ah… yeah.”

“Where are your parents?”

_That_ he could handle. “Mine died. They got sick. I stayed with Shoyo until his mom and sister got sick too, then we went to an orphanage.”

“And… you were beaten and raped weren't you?”

“... Later on.” When they'd joined their first church. Six short months of protection and happiness. Too long spent beneath those hands. At least those had left though - the ones that craved blood came back back far too often.

“Kenma, I'm so sorry for those things. I can promise that as long as you're here, you'll be safe alright.” He could only manage a little nod to the ground, and soft steps carried Tetsuro over until he was in front of Kenma. “Can I give you a hug? N-not to be weird or anything, but they make me feel better when I'm upset, so-”

“It's fine.”

Tetsuro’s mouth clamped shut, and a smile flickered onto his face when Kenma glanced up at him, shy and uncertain. “Okay.”

He slowly leaned in, slowly wrapped his arms around Kenma and pulled him in. The embrace was loose, easy - a baby could have broken it. But, strangely, Kenma didn't feel the need. He didn't feel like he was in danger, even when Tetsuro set his chin on top of his hair, or when the embrace slowly tightened, just a little. Kenma just sagged against him with a quiet sigh, cheek flat against Tetsuro’s chest. He was warm. Just like Shoyo. But it felt different - his stomach was in knots, but not the bad kind. The kind that made his hands twitched up and loop around Tetsuro too as he sighed. “Thank you…”

“It's no problem,” Tetsuro hummed, and Kenma believed him.

* * *

 

The Wednesday service was quick. No eyes were on him - they were all firmly locked onto Tetsuro and the broad sweeps of his arms and the radiant smile he flashed at everyone. And Kenma couldn't blame them. Tetsuro demanded attention when he preached, his voice so loud that it filled the church effortlessly. It was astounding to see how flawlessly his speeches went, how he conjured quotes from thin air.

Even after four months his sermons had yet to lose their magic, and Kenma _loved_ it. So much that Shoyo had to nudge him when the sermon was done, he was so dazed. That come with a knowing smile, though the reasons why Kenma couldn't fathom. Between the sermon and his excitement, it was impossible to think.

The bruises had mostly yellowed and started to fade, and so they'd decided on after the sermon, before dinner. Kenma’s hands fluttered nervously as he walked through the halls, his pace too fast, but he didn't care. His body was on fire, tingling with anticipation. It was bad enough that his knocks sounded more like the ringing of the church bells, and he winced.

Tetsuro opened the door a moment later and let Kenma in, a fond smile on his lips. It was on the bed, the binder, but Kenma didn't lunge for it like he wanted too. Instead he hesitated, watched as Tetsuro crossed the room, picked it up, and held it out for him. Kenma’s hands trembled as he pulled it close. _Finally_ . The relief was crippling, and he wanted to cry, it was so _good_ to see. He glanced up at the priest, eyes filled with tears. He couldn't summon any words, but that didn't matter.

Tetsuro grinned and patted his shoulder, nudged him towards the bathroom. “Go ahead and put it on. It's like an undershirt, just pull it over your head. Make sure the thicker pieces of fabric are on either side. I'll show you how to hook it when you're done, okay?”

“Alright.”

Kenma ducked into the bathroom and instantly stripped out of the casual clothes he'd slipped on. Tetsuro had still been in his cassock, but Kenma could hear rustling on the other side of the door, so he was probably changing as well. Kenma unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall away then the damn linen cloth. It was easy enough to get the binder on - it was pretty straightforward, though he wasn't entirely sure how well it would work. It was loose, but barely - Yuu was smaller, so he must have made it looser  intentionally. Still, it fit, and Kenma’s breath caught when he examined it in Tetsuro’s mirror. It looked like a tank top, but it felt more comfortable, the thicker pieces of fabric excluded. Kenma snatched his clothes up off the ground and knocked on the door. “Are you decent, Tetsuro?”

“Well, I do like to think I'm more than just _decent_ , but in this case, I am.”

Kenma rolled his eyes as he slipped out to the tune of the priest's laughter. Tetsuro was indeed decent - all he wore was a simple tight white shirt and black slacks, and yet the sight made Kenma’s cheeks heat, made his steps stutter. Tetsuro flashed him a bright smile that left Kenma oddly breathless as the priest curled his fingers. “Come here. I'll show you how to hook it. Do you mind pulling the fabric up?”

Kenma shook his head and raised it as he shuffled closer, and Tetsuro smiled encouragingly when he balked momentarily before he settled a step away. Tetsuro smiled. His fingers were warm, soft, but Kenma still flinched away from his touch, shy. His fingers instantly disappeared, and Tetsuro watched as Kenma sucked breaths down to calm his heart. He managed to calm down after a few moments and nodded. “I'm not going to do anything. I swear to God on that.”

Kenma nodded, breathless. He'd known that, but the words and the promise soothed his worries. When Tetsuro’s fingers brushed his side again Kenma shied away, but only slightly, and Tetsuro smiled encouragingly. Kenma watched as his fingers worked quickly to secure the rows of hooks together, on the loosest one. One by one they worked their way to his side until Tetsuro’s hands fell away with a smile. “Looks good.”

Kenma dropped the fabric, smoothed it over his chest, and peeked down, all without taking a breath. _Flat_ . Well, close enough. Enough that his eyes burned and he sucked down a breath, and that made the tears pour out. _It doesn't hurt to breathe_.

Kenma flung himself at Tetsuro, wrapped his arms tight around Tetsuro as his chest hitched with sobs that filled the room, but he was careless about that. _It feels good_. “Kenma, Kenma!” Tetsuro laughed, but the acolyte ignored him, shook his head as he tried to stop the tears of joy and the quiet sniffles that burst out of him. That just caused more laughter, and one arm settled around him as the other tangled into his hair, stroked through it until Kenma stilled and wiped his eyes, bloodshot and damp. Tetsuro’s shirt was damp, but Kenma couldn't even feel a guilty. Especially not when he looked up.

Tetsuro’s face was close, enough that Kenma only had to stretch up onto his toes to bump his chin. His lips were curled up in a smile, eyes scrunched up with joy of his own. Kenma’s heart stuttered and his fingers spasmed as he stared, breathless in a _wonderful_ way. That also _scared_ him.

But Tetsuro didn't seem to notice because he released Kenma and caught his hands instead, spun him around once, twice before he realized him with a breathless laugh. “I'm so glad you like it! Now, let me tell you what Yuu told me. You can tighten it, but don't do it if it's painful. If that's comfortable and it works, go with that. Also, he advised pushing your breasts down and out to help with the look. Stretch a lot, cough sometimes, and take deep breaths as often as you can. And don't fall asleep in it, do hard exercise, or wear it all day, okay?”

“Okay,” Kenma breathed, clinging to every word. For more reasons than one.

* * *

 

Tetsuro’s strides were long enough that Kenma would have struggled to keep pace with any other day if he hadn't been so excited. Yuu’s binder was good, but it didn't fit quite right, and Kenma was more than ready to get ahold of his own. His hands curled in front of him and he tugged on his fingers as they walked, only the slightly sounds of activity reaching them.

They'd stopped by the baker's, and Koushi had handed them a loaf of warm, buttery bread with a cheery grin. It was tucked beneath Tetsuro’s arm even though Kenma had insisted he could and should carry it since it was a sort of thank you to Asahi and Yuu. But instead all he had to do was keep up and try to keep his excitement off his face. Thankfully that wasn't too hard - he wasn't very expressive, but the tiny smile was a little too much to bite back. Despite the eagerness he let Tetsuro lead the way up the front walk of the house, and let him knock as well.

Yuu opened the door after a few moments, eyes a little bleary and a coffee cup in his hand. He brightened the moment he focused on them, and even more when he spotted the loaf of bread. “Is that from Koushi?”

“Fresh baked and everything.”

Yuu moaned, pleased, and stretched his hand out, grasping for the bread that Tetsuro teasingly pulled out of his reach. Yuu moved forwards and Tetsuro raised it up in the air, far out of Yuu’s reach. The small man scowled as he glared up at the bread - and then he smiled as he slammed his foot down onto Tetsuro’s.

“Shit!” the priest hissed as he hunched down, and the second his arm fell the tiniest bit Yuu leapt up. His cup must have been empty because no coffee flew out when he jumped up, his feet high up off the ground, and snatched the bread away. Yuu beamed at Tetsuro and brought the mug down onto Tetsuro’s head with a solid thunk.

“Asshole. See if I ever send Asahi down there with a casserole ever again.”

“Sorry, Yuu,” Tetsuro laughed as he straightened up with an easy smile. “It's always too amusing to resist.”

“See if it's amusing when I castrate you…” Yuu grumbled, but he stepped back and left the door open for them to step in. Kenma closed it and awkwardly shuffled in behind Tetsuro into the kitchen. Four plates had already been set out, filled with eggs and thin slices of meat, and Yuu sliced the bread up as Asahi set out the bottles of milk, marmalade, and honey.

“Good morning Tetsuro, Kenma.”

Kenma’s greeting was quieter than Tetsuro’s, but Asahi flashed him a warm smile that Kenma returned, not quite so hesitant. “Do you want milk or coffee?”

“Milk, please.”

“Just a hint, it won't make you grow tall,” Yuu muttered with a small scowl at the bottles, but he shrugged. “Can't really help that though. I was destined to be small, even if I'd been born a man. Both of my parents were short as Hell.” He flashed Kenma a grin, mysterious and cocky. “That doesn't mean I can't kick ass though!”

“Yuu,” Tetsuro drawled, “You'll go to Hell if you keep fucking cursing.”

Yuu responded by smacking the back of Tetsuro’s hand with a spoon before he sat down with a victorious smirk. Breakfast was far from silent. Tetsuro and Yuu fueled the conversation, their voices loud in the quiet of the morning, but it suited them. It made Kenma relax, a hard thing to do in unfamiliar places, even though he knew it was a good one.

It was nice to see people outside of the church too. He'd seen Asahi and Yuu in the pews, but they'd never spoken to him, and their conversations with the priests rarely strayed from plain, everyday things. In their home Yuu and Asahi came alive. Asahi smiled more, and he looked far more confident with everything. He freely touched Yuu, though Yuu was often the one to initiate the contact. Well, he didn't have much to back that with, but it seemed plausible.

Though for the most part his eyes were on Tetsuro. The way his eyes crinkled when he laughed or smiled was fascinating - Tetsuro smiled with his whole face, from forehead to chin. There were faint dimples that appeared with every deep grin or smirk, and any curl of his lips made Kenma’s heart thump uncomfortably fast. Kenma pressed his hand to his chest whenever that happened and pointedly looked away, but his eyes always drifted back.

It worked well until Yuu caught it one time and grinned at him with a raised eyebrow. Kenma had just flushed and turned his face down, pointedly not looking at either. It was a good plan until he was finished and a small hand wrapped around his forearm. “Come on, Kenma,” Yuu sang, “Let's get you into that new binder!”

Kenma nodded and obediently rose, not that he had much of a choice with the way Yuu tugged on his arm. The small man prodded him back to the bedroom and locked the door behind them. Kenma had one second, maybe two before Yuu bounced in front of him and reached out for him before his hand froze. “Sorry,” he laughed, “I forget. I'll get better, promise. Now, let's get you out of that old thing, alright? I think you'll like what I've got.”

“Okay.”

Yuu held a hand up, and after Kenma nodded he grinned and rubbed Kenma’s head. “Good. Let me know if you need some help.” With that he dropped onto the bed and spun around so that his back was to Kenma. Kenma’s fingers hesitated at the bottom of the garment, but he tugged it up after a moment. He probably wouldn't need help - he'd gotten very good with it, and he hadn't tightened it more than necessary. The angles were awkward, but he didn't mind. It kept the touches away.

Yuu started to chatter as Kenma slowly undid the hooks, fingers uncooperative. “Your hair is really soft! You should tell me what you use. Then again I use gel to spike my hair up usually. Right! You haven't seen that yet! It looks pretty nice, though Asahi and Tetsuro make fun of me. But hey, I like it. Your hair is really nice Kenma. Do you want to cut it any shorter?”

“Not really. I like it when it hides my face.”

Yuu hummed, understanding. Kenma could just barely see a smile on his lips, his eyes clamped shut. “Can't blame you. Asahi used to be like that, but now he ties it back. Very nice to tug on by the way. Oh, can you believe Tetsuro doesn't use gel? That weirdo sleeps between two pillows. Talk about bed head. Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Alright! Just toss it on the dresser. Yours is up there already!”

“Okay.” Kenma folded the binder up anyway and turned. And his mouth went slack. Three lay on the top of the dresser, one black one gray, and one white, with two other things on top. They looked like the stretchy fabric on the inside, but there was no cloth to cover them like a tank top. “I… Yuu? What… what's all of this?” _There was only supposed to be one_.

When he peeked over his shoulder he found that Yuu had already turned around, a grin on his lips, though his eyes were still firmly shut. “Those are all yours, Kenma! I couldn't decide, and I figured you'd need a lot, especially since you're binding every day. The three bottom ones are good for everyday, though I'd advise the black if you're going to swim or anything. The other two don't compress quite as much and they're more comfortable because they're for anything strenuous.”

“I… this is too much… I'll pay you back, promise-”

“No need,” Yuu hummed, “You need them. Besides, they didn't cost that much to make. Tetsuro knew and everything - hell, he begged me to.”

Kenma blinked, turned around, his hands curled across his chest. He wasn't breathing quite right - not the quick, shallow inhales of panic attacks but short slow breaths that barely moved his shoulders and chest. “Yuu… why would he ask you to make me so many?”

Yuu’s eyes cracked open, the amber irises warm, playful. “Why do you think?”

_I don't know._ How could he know? Tetsuro was hard to read, and Kenma hadn't known him long enough to begin to decipher his twitches and touches, his smiles and words. Kenma’s fingers dug into his chest as he sagged back against the dresser, brow furrowed. “Tetsuro… he's just being a good child of God.”

“Wrong,” Yuu sang. He kicked off the bed and slipped across the room, his steps quick and short. He peered up at Kenma and grinned, warm, easy. “Well, you're right, but not in this case. Guess again.”

The acolyte leaned back until his back was pressed to the dresser, and he glanced down at the binders. His cheeks were hot, unbearably so, and Kenma pressed his hand over his mouth so hard that it hurt “I don't know…” he whispered, voice hoarse. Tetsuro was kind to him, _very_ kind, but there wasn't anything strange about it. “I don't know why he did it… but it means a lot to me.” Yuu’s bemused smile faded as he cocked his head and raised an eyebrow, blatantly curious.

Kenma’s face darkened as he buried his face behind his hands, too embarrassed to care if he wasn't covered or not. His tongue was tied, and his fingers twitched as he ducked his head. “I-I r-r-really like him. Father T-Tetsuro. _Tetsuro_ .” A tiny sound escaped Kenma as he shook his head. Nothing happened. Despite that it still took Kenma a few long moments to peek between his fingers to investigate. Yuu’s smile was positively _massive_ , and as Kenma watched a small laugh bubbled out of the small man.

“Kenma, why are you so flustered? You just like him!”

“That's exactly why!” “Kenma, your relationship - okay, let's be real, it's a little illegal-”

“ _Very_ illegal!”

“Yes, yes, illegal and illicit in terms of the church and the area, but do you think that matters to the rest of us? Other people shouldn't control who you like just because they don't like it. You're devoting your life to God and all that crap! And he hasn't struck you down, or the rest of the damn church, so you're fine. And don't you dare complain about age - you're legal and he's, what, five years older?”

“Y-yeah.”

Yuu’s smile was victorious, and he patted Kenma’s arm. “Don't worry about it. Trust me, he'll take it well. Now c’mon, I wanna see how these binders look on you!” Yuu spun back around, and Kenma stared after him in shock for a few seconds before he turned around as well.

He took the gray one and pulled in overhead. There were three sets of hooks, but the third was marked with red thread, and Kenma eyed it for a moment before he hooked them in place along the last row of hooks. He adjusted it, pushed his breasts around, and let the top part fall down, eyes burning. _Perfect_. It left him flat, it fit him well, snug on his body but not tight. “Yuu…”

The small man appeared over his shoulder with a bright grin. “Excellent. Now, the other hooks are for in case it gets too tight, like if you grow again. It sucks but it happens sometimes. That'll save you from coming up here until they wear out, but you should be set for at least the next year.”

“I… thank you so much.”

Yuu ruffled his hair, his smile easy. “Don't mention it. Now come on, let's go show the boys.” Yuu led the way, a bounce to his steps, and Kenma trailed behind, his stomach bubbling with excitement. Asahi and Tetsuro were on the couch, coffee cradled in their hands, Tetsuro’s cassock on the back of a chair, and a quiet conversation between them, but it stuttered to a stop when Yuu swept in, Kenma on his heels.

Blood rushed in his ears, and Kenma felt his cheeks start to burn as Tetsuro peered at him. His face was neutral at first, still covered with that warm smile he'd worn during his and Asahi’s conversation. But then his eyes widened and his eyebrows arched up. His smile disappeared, but the small ‘o’ his mouth made instead was infinitely better. Yuu gently clasped Kenma and turned him, gave the other two a full look of it. “It's perfect,” Tetsuro managed after a minute. “Kenma… you're very handsome.”

His cheeks were on fire, and Kenma ducked his head in a nod that let his hair fall in front of his face so he could hide his embarrassment. Tetsuro just laughed as he rose and strode over, the movements strange without the shapeless fluttering of his cassock. Instead his tight white undershirt was on display, and the muscles that bulged beneath it as well. The sight made Kenma’s mouth go dry, but he managed a tiny smile as Tetsuro stopped in front of him. “Kenma…” Tetsuro’s huge hand rose, settled in Kenma’s dark hair, and the acolyte scrunched his face up. “Kenma, this is fantastic. I'm very happy for you.”

He couldn't find words, couldn't make his tongue move. _It's thanks to you_ . Kenma stepped in and threw his arms around Tetsuro, trapped him in a tight hug that made the priest laugh, a sound so loud that it rumbled through Kenma, left his knees weak as he pressed tighter into Tetsuro’s arms. _He smells good_ . Like soap and musty old pages. _I don't want this to end_. But it did - it had to, and Kenma smiled faintly as he stepped back, even though his chest ached and clenched.

* * *

 

The halls were empty, and Kenma found solace in that. Even more so from the cool air that tugged at his night clothes and hair as he stepped outside into the chilly autumn night. Grass tickled the soles of his feet, but he paid it no mind as he chased shadows across the silver yard, all the way to the garden. Seven months since they'd arrived. Three since Tetsuro had found out. Two since he'd realized that his feelings for the priest were something more than admiration or thanks. But Kenma hadn't acted on it, and Tetsuro was still as unreadable as ever. _I guess he has to be so that people don't read him easily._

Shoyo had a lot to learn about that - he'd seen how flustered the other acolyte would get around Father Tooru, though he hadn't divulged anything to Kenma, and Kenma hadn't yet prodded for information. Shoyo would tell him when he was ready, and Kenma wasn't entirely worried about that - he was more concerned with how messy his thoughts were. They were totally wrapped around Tetsuro, so much that sometimes he couldn't sit near the man without flushing, no matter how slightly. Yuu, when he visited, always made a point to tease Kenma when they were alone, and he always asked when he'd do something, say something. But Kenma was tongue-tied, and that was unlikely to change.

The acolyte sighed and crouched in the middle of the garden. The soil was still warm beneath his toes, and the earth smelled fresh, rich. Kenma pressed his fingers into the dirt and sighed as he dropped his head to his knees. His other hand found his rosary, and he thumbed the beads as he let a prayer whisper through his mind. _God, please lend me the strength to say something, or let me move on if there's no hope. I want to focus on my studies, but Father Tetsuro makes it hard. I don't know which path would be better._

A rustle made him jerk upright, ready to throw a handful of earth, but he relaxed a second later. The calico cat was crouched a few feet away, her tail wrapped over her paws and her ears turned towards him. She meowed at him and slowly rose with the luxurious grace that only cats possessed and strode over to him. The little feline purred as she rubbed against his legs, loud rumbles that made Kenma smile as he scratched at her head. His fingers froze a second later, but the cat paid no mind - she just rubbed her cheek against his still fingers as he stared, blank. _Is this a sign? No, that's stupid. She always hangs around, she always wants attention_.

Kenma shook his head and shuffled the cat's fur, much to the skinny creature's delight. For minutes on end it was like that, peaceful as the cat wound around his legs, demanding attention and love. It ended when she sat up and darted away to crouch in the grass, ears pricked and body low like she was going to hunt something. Kenma watched for a few moments, but he soon rose. “Night, kitty,” he called softly. Her tail flicked, almost like an answer, but Kenma didn't dwell on it much.

He wiped his feet off and slipped back inside to the slightly warmer halls of the church, still as dark as they had been before. Despite that he knew he could make it back to his room - he'd long since memorized the layout of the church, and he was more than confident in his abilities to navigate it in the dark. And that everyone would be asleep.

And yet, when he reached the priests’ quarters two thin slivers of light interrupted the darkness - one from Father Tooru’s room, one from Tetsuro’s. Kenma’s feet stilled, hesitant. Sounds of conversation, one voice deep and smooth, one higher and far more familiar. Kenma crept closer and, after a few moments of consideration, pressed his cheek to the doorframe so he could peer in.

The bed was occupied by two.

Shoyo was flat on his back, still fully clothed, with his hands limp above his head. His cheeks were flushed, eyes lidded, and even from the hall Kenma could see his breath catch and stutter. All because of Father Tooru, who straddled him with a cocky, warm grin on his lips. Kenma tensed - of all of the priests, he was least comfortable with Father Tooru. He was too hard to read, but it was clear enough that the way he acted around the parishioners was a façade. _Should I stop him?_ But Shoyo wasn't fighting back. He looked eager _,_ _happy_ even, and so Kenma held himself, frozen against the door frame.

“Shoyo,” the priest breathed as he trailed his fingers along the acolyte’s cheek, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. It was so tender that Kenma’s fingers loosened on the wood as the knot of apprehension in his gut loosened and warmed, a little more with every soft kiss that Father Tooru pressed to Shoyo’s face.

Kenma smiled to himself as he pushed away so he couldn't see anymore. _Good for you Shoyo_ . They'd definitely have to talk soon about their lives, things that had slipped away from them like quicksand with all their duties. _But for now_ … Kenma crept further down the hall, down to Tetsuro’s room.

Candlelight flickered as he pressed his cheek to the doorframe, his chest still. Tetsuro knelt beside his bed, hands clasped in front of him, rosary tucked inside his hand, and his head bowed. His lips moved in silent prayer, and Kenma sighed quietly to himself as he sagged against the frame. Tetsuro straightened up and glanced back, and Kenma froze, scared stiff for a moment before he relaxed and knocked on the door. Tetsuro turned around fully, a careful smile on his lips. “Come in.”

Kenma nudged the door open, and the smile softened into something warmer that made Kenma’s chest clench and his heart speed up as he stared, abruptly nervous. _What in God's name am I doing?_ He wasn't entirely sure, but he smiled anyway and slipped further in. “Sorry… I took a walk because I couldn't sleep, and I saw your room was lit. I'm sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Walks are good and curiosity is better. Don't worry Kenma, I was already finished. I'm not quite ready to go to sleep anyway. Here, why don't you sit? I'll pour us some drinks. Any preference?”

Kenma shook his head as he sank down on the bed, and Tetsuro flashed him a small smile as he moved to his dresser. It was embarrassing how _focused_ he as as on Tetsuro, eyes frozen on his back, on the way his body flexed beneath the tight undershirt. He dropped his eyes before Tetsuro could turn around and picked at his fingers, nerves churning in his stomach.

“Here you go.” Kenma glanced up and accepted the glass full of amber liquid, though he nearly dropped it when Tetsuro flashed a bright, toothy smile at him. “It's whiskey, but you deserve it. Besides, it's just one glass, and it's not that much.”

“Alright…”

Tetsuro sank onto bed, so close that Kenma could feel his warmth, that their thighs nearly touched. His hand shook as he copied Tetsuro and sipped at the whiskey. It burned on the way down and made tears spring to his eyes, but he bit them back and swallowed hard. Tetsuro patted his thigh with a warm, large hand and another smile. “Not bad. The first one is always the worst, but this one goes down pretty smooth.”

The acolyte merely nodded as he sipped at the whiskey some more. They went down a little easier each time, even though he only had a little. When the glass emptied Tetsuro must have seen the faint look of disappointment on Kenma’s face because he took the glass with a chuckle and poured some more in, less this time. He held it close as he nursed it, his head bowed so that he could peek through his eyelashes and hair at Tetsuro. The man’s hair was wilder than it had been earlier that morning, like he’d tugged on it. He looked tired, the lines beneath his bags heavy, his skin paler than usual.

But, when he met Kenma’s gaze, he only had those warm smiles that made Kenma’s stomach twist and turn and run rampant with butterflies more than the whiskey ever could. And, with his stomach warm, his chest loose, and his head a little light, Kenma leaned over, crossed the centimeters until he could smell the aftershave and the soap. Until he pressed a kiss to Tetsuro’s cheek, his hand fisted into the covers between them.

_Wait_.

He froze there, mouth just a few millimeters from Tetsuro’s cheek. He’d stopped breathing, and he’d have thought his heart had stopped beating too if it hadn’t been for the blood that rushed through his ears. _Oh no_. Kenma reeled back, face on fire and eyes wide as he started to blather. “I-I’m sorry, I d-didn’t - it’s n-not-”

“ _Kenma_.”

His mouth snapped shut with a harsh click and he nodded, wide-eyed and terrified, as Tetsuro cocked his head to the side and shifted. His hand, always so large and warm, settled over Kenma’s until it engulfed his hand, covered it and curled around it. He set the glass down blindly, managed to just barely get it onto the nightstand before he leaned forwards. It was one thing to have Tetsuro’s hand overtop his own, another thing entirely to have it cup his cheek. Kenma really couldn’t breathe, not with how those gray eyes pinned him down, left him exposed. Tetsuro’s smile was still there, somehow even softer than before.

“May I kiss you too?”

It was all Kenma could do to nod, and Tetsuro leaned in with a smirk to press their mouths together in a kiss so chaste that Kenma nearly spilled into his lap trying to make it last longer. Tetsuro took his glass from him, still half-full of whiskey, and laughed quietly as Kenma immediately grabbed his arm. But he didn’t go in for a kiss - no, he was focused this time, and Tetsuro knew it. “I- Tetsuro, it’s okay if you don’t feel the same. I don’t want your pity.”

Tetsuro shook his head as his hand found Kenma’s face again. He traced the line of Kenma’s jaw, the soft swell of his cheek, and the ridge of his eye before his fingers tangled into Kenma’s black hair. “This isn’t pity.”

And it definitely didn’t feel like it when Tetsuro kissed him once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Three additional parts will come along. Eventually... Those will be oihina, daisuga, and asanoya.  
> Let's pretend I didn't ignore the timeline of development of technology because ey, fanfiction  
> Thanks for reading and have a wonderful day/night/existence!


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